We tumbled out, now, and hurried to wash and fix up, so that we would look good to the major. Sick people are finicky. The daughter was in the kitchen, but the mother and the doctor were eating. There was a funny sweetish smell, still; smell of chloroform. It is a serious smell, too.
The doctor smiled at us. "I ought to have taken yours out, while you were asleep," he joked. "I've been thinking of it."
"Is he all right?" we asked; Fitz and Ward behind us, ready to hear again.
"Bully, so far."
"Indeed he is," added the mother.
"Can we see him?"
"You can stand on the threshold and say one word: 'Hello.'"
We tiptoed through. The bed was clean and white, with a sheet outside instead of the colored spread; and the major was in it. The Elks' flag was spread out, draped over the dresser, where he could see it. His eyes opened at us. He didn't look so very terrible, and he tried to grin.
"How?" he said.
"Hello," said we; and we gave him the Scouts' sign.